Forever
by Ambere Skye
Summary: DennyIzzie Everybody deserves a shot at happiness, especially with a new heart. Alternate Ending to the season finale
1. Chapter 1

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**Forever**  
Chapter One: Heaven  
_Ambere Skye_

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Pain, overwhelming, blinding pain. A bright flashing pain, Izzie had asked him to stay away from the lights. But, they were so beautiful. 

When faced with death, and a glimpse of heaven, most of us would've run for the lights, but Denny had already found his angel……and so he fought.

The room echoed with his tortured gasp. He pressed the button by his hand profusely, fought the pain, and fought the light. Hoping, praying that at least one nurse hadn't slipped off to the prom.

Blurry eyed, tear-blinded. He concentrated on the one thing that made him happy, the blond temptress who'd stolen his heart. Both of them.

And when unconsciousness drowned him in the foggy depths of his mind, he kept afloat with thoughts of her. Thoughts of life with his new heart, thoughts of marriage with Izzie by his side. Dreams of children and waking up to find her still asleep. He envisioned her to be the type that snored, face down in the pillow, arms and legs sprawled everywhere, over him, off the bed, half the covers stolen to her side of the bed.

That, that was the heaven he wanted.

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_You have to admit it, like all the females in my family, you were heartbroken when Denny died. Denny is my favorite character, he is so charming, sweet and incredibly sexy. So, just so I can have my own sweet fantasies about him, I have switched things up a bit._

_I'm open to any suggestions for my story._

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	2. Chapter 2

**

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Chapter Two**  
Love's Private Moments  
_Ambere Skye_

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"Denny? Denny are you with us?" Dr. Bailey's concerned face dove in and out of his mind. His unfocused eyes swirled around the room. Too many people and two little air. He coughed once, coughed twice, and then felt that all too familiar tingling pinch in his chest.

They'd shocked him, brought him back. All he could do was smile. These people had to be tired of his continuous dying episodes. Dr. Bailey smiled back at him, looking relieved. It was then he noticed that someone was squeezing his hand, and a tangled mass of curly blond hair was bent over his arm. Sensation came slowly. The wetness on his arm, the delicate numbing that the squeezing hand was inducing, the sweet sound of her sobbing, the slight shaking of her body.

It was his angel, he had truly made it back to heaven.

She looked up. She was so beautiful when she looked so lost. Her doe brown eyes, wide with fear and anguish, stared into his soul. Every time she looked at him, he gave his heart all over again. And to think she's accepted it, and tentatively gave hers as well. She'd said yes. He remembered that. She's said yes.

"Don't cry Iz," she heard him, even though the oxygen mask blurred his words. Her face straightened for a moment in a valiant effort to comply, but it crumbled again. He was such a sick man, blood clots, a new heart, there was just too much when it came to Denny. Too much. And her lack of experience in the trials and tribulations of love were only making it harder to handle. She was an emotional mess, her mood, her life flailing helplessly with the tide of his health.

"Do you know what happened, Denny?" Dr. Bailey asked, looking down disapprovingly at their entwined hands, and at Izzie's hiccupped gasps. Her patient didn't look up at her, focused on the beauty that was his fiancée.

"It felt like my head exploded," he muttered truthfully, reaching up with one hand to pull off the mask. Bailey looked as is she wanted to stop him, but resisted the urge when she realized that medicine wasn't going to heal him right now, just like it wasn't medicine that brought him back.

He had been half dead, body slightly convulsing, mouth twitching. But with almost every breath he took, Izzie's name was on his lips. If she wasn't worried, and about ready to kill one of her most promising interns, she'd appreciate the glow that seemed to surround them, the honesty in their feelings and the devotion in Izzie's presence.

"I know I just about died on you," Denny joked, his free hand stroking Izzie's once again bowed head. He looked up at his audience, observers, and staff, dressed up in their suits and gowns. "Can you give us a moment, a tiny one?" he tried to laugh off the thudding inside his skull, at least chuckle a bit, but the pain wasn't exactly gone, and he felt the blackness tugging at the edges of his eyes again.

They filed out the room slowly, leaving behind their pity. Denny hated pity, but he'd bare it if they'd leave, and Izzie would stop crying.

"Izzie?" without the crowd, the weight of her concern overwhelmed her. With a large sob she flung herself over his chest, not roughly, just soft enough to prevent him from any more damage. Her warmth was comforting, her attention was the balm for such a defeated spirit.

With one win, came three more losses. He had the heart, he finally had the damn heart. Now everything else wanted to break down.

"Its okay, Iz, its okay," he kissed her temple, stroked her cheek. She was finally soothed then, finally calmed. She kissed away her fear and his tiredness. Kissed him until they were both breathless and her head was swirling just as much as his.

"Denny, you have to live," she whispered, her forehead against his. She lifted the edge of her dress, and he saw it was pink. Pink, when everyone else wore black, yeah, that was his Isobel.

She curled up against his side, feeling that she finally belonged somewhere. And all her insecurity, all her doubts disappeared. All there was, all she needed lay quietly beside her, his fingers sending pleasant chills down her back.

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-large sigh- _I'm getting emotional all over again.I wish Denny hadn't died. I loved his character._

_I'mreally thrown about how sweet you've been to my story, my baby. This is a new penname, so I'm not totally oblivious to the working of fan fiction, but these are some of the best reviews i've every gotten._

_Pardon the length. I know it's short. Like, REALLY short. But that's how the inspiration comes; weaving through the writer's block and the ridiculous load of research and homework I have to do EVERY night. I'll try to update again, soon. Seriously._

(If you see any typos, mistakes or inconsistencies, please let me know. I want my first tribute to Denny and Izzie to be the best I can push out!)


	3. Chapter 3

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Chapter Three  
A Taste of Happiness  
Ambere Skye

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Christian Tripp died that night. His last request was to have his pastor pray for his soul and read him his favorite biblical passage.

Luck would have it that one of the girls had heard about Denny and Izzie, and his second collapse. After he passed out, Izzie's friends coaxed her from the room, but she would only stray as far as the doorway, rough cafeteria chair serving as her bed as she waited on the test results.

Dr. Bailey had spoken about surgery, surgery to remove a small blood clot that was building in his brain. Another risky surgery, another chance to lose him all over again.

They'd been so lucky, all this time. Surgery after surgery, he'd come out on top, he'd survived her botched attempt to steal a heart, his roller coaster conditions, the varied twists and turns that always led him back to the hospital and under her care.

Not that, in some twisted way, she appreciated his flawed heart, the one damaged so badly that it'd brought them together.

From the first meeting he was charming, sweet, and so, so sexy. He was perfect for her, a man's man. He had lived in his short life, and was ready for the things Izzie wanted herself. Love and family. If he'd just get better they'd have them both.

"Izzie?" she jumped at the voice. It was George and Callie. George had a bag, and from the way it crumpled when he shifted, she could only hope it was full with wondrous junk food. Callie held her jumpsuit in her arms and the old running shoes from her locker. With grateful hands she took both from them, smiling with as much gratitude she could muster. George knelt at her side, his hands keeping him stable, resting on her knees.

"How is he?" he moved Izzie's bangs aside, took a good look at her appearance. Red eyes, flushed face, runny nose, he interpreted it all as signs that Denny Duquette probably wasn't doing as well as she wanted him to do.

"He had a stroke, George. I forgot about blood clots…..he was always prone to them, you know, and now, now they have to operate again to remove one from his brain," her face fell, but she didn't cry, she bravely resisted the urge to cry.

"Iz," she waved him away.

"I thought with the heart that he would be okay, that we'd be okay. But Denny's not okay, George. His body won't survive another surgery," she sniffed, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. Callie swallowed hard, and moved to leave the friends to their conversation.

"Dr. Torres!" Izzie's estranged voice shot through her. She didn't turn, afraid that she'd cry too if she looked at her too long.

"Will you watch him while I'm gone?" she whispered. Callie knew that there were many implications behind that simple request. Trust. So she nodded to the slightly younger doctor, helping her to her feet and guiding her to an empty room she could change, and possibly, rest inside.

And somewhere, two teenage girls led the aged pastor up the darkened steps of Denny's ward, and they caught Izzie before she left to change, and one of the nurses caring for Denny.

He was conscious, and was asking for Iz anyway.

Callie stood with old flowers, wilted and dying, with George by her side. Meredith had been tracked down, and Derek had followed her inside as well. It seemed like most of the staff had appeared, and although it hadn't exactly been an easy day, everyone was pleased it would end so well.

So, with hands folded, heads bowed and hearts thumping (both quite safely) in perfect unison, Isobel Stevens changed her last name.

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_THAT'S how it should've ended!

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_


End file.
